


A plan of a frozen heart

by DarkValkyrie



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alexithymia, Domestic Violence, Violence, Violent Thoughts, don't let the title fool you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:48:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21563251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkValkyrie/pseuds/DarkValkyrie
Summary: This is a slice of life of a girl that perceives the world and thinks so differently than we do.All her life she knew that she was different and faced a lot of challenges. That difference is what made it possible for her, when she was thirteen, to plan to remove a threat from her house, permanently, be patient and act at the right time and get away with it.Who knows what she'll be able to do when she'll be older?
Kudos: 1





	A plan of a frozen heart

**Author's Note:**

> This story has two rather difficult topics. I’m not gonna give them away right at the start of the story so no spoilers for now.
> 
> If you want spoilers there is an explanation at the end of the story but I suggest you read the story first then read the explanation at the end.
> 
> It’s just a story. It doesn’t have a deeper spiritual, moral or ethical meaning.  
> It’s just a slice of life, a weird one, but still just a slice of life.
> 
> If you have spare time please read.

Ever since Ana could remember she always felt different than the rest of the people around her. She always felt like she was living in a world where there was a large part she didn’t understand. 

As a small child, in kindergarten, Ana had difficulty making friends and talking to others. Every time she tried talking to other children or tried playing games with them, they chased her away and called her a freak. It didn’t bother her that the other children were mean to her, she saw the same thing also happen to other children. What bothered Ana was that the other children, who got called freaks, ran away crying calling for their mothers. Ana didn’t understand why they did that. 

It was no different at home. Her mother and father were always fighting and screaming at one another. Most of the time her father hit her mother until she started crying. Ana didn’t understand what made him do that. She understood why her mother was crying. Her father hit her and, because he was stronger than her, it probably hurt a lot. Ana remembered the time she fell off the tree and hurt her knee. That really hurt and her body just reacted by itself with tears falling down her face, so logically tears were a sign of pain.

Ana went to the bathroom to get the first aid kit and brought it to her mother to clean the wounds that her father inflicted upon her mother’s face. Her mother was crying, turning her head away from Ana, avoiding her eyes ‘ _Why is she doing that? Why won’t she look at me? I won’t hit her.’_ Ana continued to clean her mother’s wounds not understanding that her mother was feeling ashamed. After she finished cleaning and bandaging the wounds Ana put all the things back into the first aid kit and started to get up. Her mother put her hands around her hugging her tightly, still crying. Not knowing what to do she put the first aid kit down on the floor and did the same as her mother did, she put her hands around her mother.

As she got older, she started to see that people react to other people’s emotions and situations. They reacted differently to happy events, sad events, jokes and humor, whatever that may be, their own lives, and even the weather in different ways. As the years went by Ana watched people’s reactions to different kinds of events and situations. Ana learned that happy events were events like birthdays, holidays, Christmas, playing games, especially if you are winning, getting new toys or being the first to get the newest toy you could buy. Those weren’t the only ones. As she got older, she learned that there are hundreds of events and situations that people considered happy, funny or good and reacted to each of them similar but at the same time different. 

By watching people’s reactions to different kinds of events and situations Ana started to memorize the reactions so she could mimic them when she needed to. The happy ones were easy. They relied on how well you know the person who is having a happy event or situation, and by that measurement it was expected of you to smile, clap and congratulate them. If you know the person better, give them a hug, take a picture with them or with them and other people, but if you know a person for a long time, give them a kiss on the cheek, be their companion and talk to them during the celebration. There were always exceptions, of course, she learned that not all people like that you to do the things that are expected of you during a happy event. Ana always had a plan B for reactions to happy events.

The sad events and situations were more difficult. The first sad event Ana was ever exposed to was when her hamster died. He lived for four years in her room and Ana took care of him. She gave him food and water, cleaned his cage and occasionally let him walk free around her room. When he died, her father dug a small hole in the backyard and buried him. Her mother came into her room to comfort her and explain what death is, but found her sitting on the bed doing homework. Her mother looked at her puzzled and set next to her “Sweetie, can we talk for a minute?”

“Yes mom. What is it?” Ana put down her pencil and looked at her mother’s puzzled look.

“You know what happened to Mr. Bites?” Her mother asked.

“Yes. He died.” Ana replied, no change in the tone of her voice or the look on her face.

“You know what that means?” Her mother asked as a sad look appeared on her face.

“Of course I know. He was alive, he got old and he died. I think he died in his sleep because he was in his house when I found him.” Ana said. 

“Ok Sweetie. I love you. If you need anything I’ll be down in the kitchen.” Her mother stood up and started to leave her room. This conversation with her ten-year-old daughter worried her. Her daughter’s hamster, that she had for four years, just died and Ana showed no signs of any kind of emotions. She didn’t look sad, she wasn’t crying, she wasn’t looking for consolation like a normal child her age would have, instead, she was doing homework. Yes, the conversation worried her, it worried her a lot, especially because on her birthday and on Christmas day her daughter seemed normal, completely opposite to what just happened. 

“Ok mom. Thanks.” Ana said and thought ‘ _Did I miss something. Was the death of Mr. Bites some kind of an event or a situation? It didn’t seem like a happy event, nobody was laughing._ ’ Ana didn’t understand so she went back to doing homework.

As time passed Ana came into contact with more and more events and situations, she never before saw or understood, she categorized them as good, happy, funny, sad, dangerous, violent etcetera. Ana watched people’s reactions to the events and situations, memorized them and formed her own versions of reactions so she could respond accordingly to people’s expectations. At thirteen years old she got so good at mimicking emotions, and the more reactions she memorized the better she got at responding accordingly to people’s expectations to the events and situations. She even made a few friends.

Ana liked the new classes they were given in school, classes like mathematics and physics. They seemed so easy to her, you were given a problem to solve, you solved the problem using logic and got a result or formed a hypothesis, made a prediction based on the hypothesis, tested the prediction and iterated. In all of her science classes she was a straight-A student. The other classes where a bit of a problem for her because they didn’t rely on logic. Literature was the most difficult to understand. The teacher always asked questions like what the author meant when he wrote that scene or why did this character feel so much passion etcetera. To Ana it seemed that literature was based on emotion, the part she didn’t understand, not logic. It was difficult enough to mimic responses and emotions, but this was another level of difficulty. Ana managed to get the list of books they were going over this year of school and decided to search for the answers. Next year she will go to high school where she will pick more logical based classes instead of the emotion-based ones.

One day Ana was at home, on her laptop, searching for the answers to the probable questions the teacher could ask for the next book when she came across a news article about a man putting his wife in a coma. It was a case of domestic violence that went on for years and nobody did anything to help and protect the woman from her husband that was beating her every day. She continued to read the article as she heard her mother and father fighting again downstairs. Ana opened a new tab on her web browser and in the search bar she typed in domestic violence. There were so many articles about it, psychiatrists explaining why men beat women and why were women afraid to leave the men who beat them. Some articles were giving advice on what to do and what not to do in case of domestic violence. But the advice wasn’t logical and most cases of domestic violence ended with: Woman killed by her husband. Husband in jail. 

Ana heard her mother cry, stood up, got the first aid kit like the past hundreds of times, and went down to help her mother clean and bandage the wounds. When she saw her mother sitting on the floor, face all swollen, bleeding and crying she sat next to her and for the first time Ana understood why her mother always hugged her after she cleaned her wounds, she was afraid and didn’t want to be alone. Ana put the first aid kit on the floor, put her hands around her mother and hugged her. Her mother looked up at Ana in disbelief, this was the first time her daughter hugged her first, with tears running down her face she put her arms around her daughter hugging her. They both sat there for a while both crying. 

Ana let go of her mother and opened the first aid kit. “Come on. Let me fix what he did. You don’t have to be ashamed for his actions.” Ana said softly to her mother. Her mother let go of her, lifted her head up and for the first time she didn’t look away, a small smile started to appear on her face. 

After reading all the articles about domestic violence and seeing her mother beaten by her father, she couldn’t sleep all night. The thought ‘ _woman killed by her husband_ ’ was repeating in her head over and over again. Her mother was the only person who, every day, told her that she loved her, Ana couldn’t reciprocate that love to her mother, because she couldn’t feel it, but she still felt that her mother was the only person that cared about her. Her father never said those words to her. Ana needed to help and protect her mother but the advice on what to do and what not to do in case of domestic violence wasn’t logical. She needed to form her own plan.

For a month Ana researched ways how people died by accidents and worked on her own plan on how to help and protect her mother from her father. While researching accidental deaths she found out that most of the accidental deaths happened to people when they were at home or at work. It was logical. People spent most of their time at home or at work, especially people with families. Ana read about the most common causes of accidental deaths and a plan started to form in her head.

One day Ana came home from school and heard screaming coming from the living room. She threw her school bag on the floor and rushed into the living room. Her mother was on the floor screaming in agony, her left hand broken, there was blood everywhere. Ana immediately came to her, trying to help but there was nothing she could do. Her father was standing a few steps away from them “She deserved that. That bitch hit me!” He said with anger in his voice.

For the first time in her life Ana felt something. She felt rage. 

As rage overtook Ana‘s whole body she leaped towards her father and started hitting him as hard as she could. He stumbled a bit, but he was bigger and stronger than her so he grabbed Ana by the neck and slapped her hard. “You bitch. You’re the same as your mother. Do I have to teach bought of you your place!” He shouted as he threw his daughter on the floor. Ana stood up, took the phone out of her pocket and called an ambulance.

The ambulance took Ana and her mother to the hospital where two police officers were waiting. One of them came with them. “I will need to take pictures of your wounds. It’s standard procedure and it will take just a few minutes.” First, she took a picture of her mother’s broken arm, wounds and bruises on her face and neck. “Did he hit you anywhere else?” The police officer asked her mother but her mother was silently grinding her teeth in agony, trying to silence her scream and the pain of her broken arm. “Ok. We can do this later. Don’t worry I’ll watch your daughter.” The nurses and doctors took Ana’s mother away and the police officer turned towards Ana “Come with me. The nurses and a doctor are going to examine your injuries and I’m just gonna take a few pictures. Ok?” A nurse came and they walked into an examination room. 

Ana took off her clothes, put on a hospital gown and sat on the examination table. The police officer took photos of her split lip and the bruises on her neck. “Did he hit you anywhere else?” The police officer asked.

“No…How’s my mother? Where did they take her?” Ana asked no emotions showing on her face or in her voice.

“I don’t know. They probably took her to fix her arm. The doctor will be here soon. But more importantly, are you ok? How are you feeling?” The police officer asked. She saw hundreds of domestic violence victims and knew how traumatizing it can be for a child to be a victim. But this child didn’t seem like a victim of domestic violence. She didn’t show any signs that children usually do after experiencing trauma like she just did. She looked like nothing happened. At thirteen years old she should understand what just happened to her mother yet she just sat there on the examination table looking bored. The police officer looked at her puzzled.

‘ _Oh…This is one of the events they expect me to respond accordingly. This is a sad and violent event that happened to me and my mother who I love. That means I should respond with tears for my mother, with fear because of violence, and dull look imitating shock of not understanding what exactly happened because I’m a child._ ’ Seeing the police officers puzzled look the thoughts rushed through Ana’s mind quickly as she remembered that she forgot to respond to this situation. Ana formed a dull look on her face, tears started forming in the corners of her eyes. Seeing this, the police officer reached out with her hand, trying to comfort her. 

Ana jerked her shoulder away from the police officers hand mimicking the fear of touch. The police officer looked at her with sadness and pity in her eyes. ‘ _Logically I should now ask her to leave me alone and that I want to see my mother. Children always ask for their mother._ ’ Ana taught and said “Please, can I be alone now. And when can I see my mother?”

A doctor entered the room and the police officer said. “The doctors and nurses will take care of that. Just listen to them. Me and my partner will be waiting just over there if you or your mother need anything, ok?” The police officer left the examination room and let the doctor and the nurses do their job.

After a few hours Ana and her mother were reunited. Her mother was resting in a bed, her left arm in a cast. Ana was sitting beside her holding her mother’s right hand. The police officers were sitting outside of the room waiting for her mother to wake up.

After a few hours her mother woke up, a doctor came in to check up on Ana and her mother. He talked to her mother for a bit explaining what they did and what she needed to do so her arm can fully heal. 

He looked at Ana’s split lip and the bruises on her neck, told her to take it easy for a few days and left the room. Outside he stopped and talked with the police officers for a few minutes and left. The police officers walked into the room, one of them took Ana outside and sat her on a chair by the room “Wait here for a bit while we talk with your mom.”

Ana sat there looking at them talking to her mother. it looked like they were asking her mother questions and writing her answers down in little notebooks. At one point her mother started crying ‘ _Why are they making her cry? Aren’t police officers the good guys?_ ’ It didn’t make any sense that the good guys make bad situations and make people feel bad events. ‘ _Should I cry too_?’ This was a new situation for Ana, a new event. She couldn’t compare it to any events she saw until now so she couldn’t mimic any of the responses she memorized. Ana decided to sit and wait to see what will happen. Maybe she’ll recognize an event or a situation and find an appropriate response. She realized that there are even more events and situations that she has to witness and memorize the appropriate responses. 

The police officers left the room, said goodbye to her and left. ‘ _Why didn’t they talk to me? I was also there. He also hurt me? Why don’t they want to hear my side of the story? Is it because I’m thirteen. That doesn’t mean I don’t know what happened!_ ’ Ana went back into the room. Her mother was still crying so she decided not to bother her with more questions. ‘ _Crying…That’s a sad event I know how to respond to._ ’ Ana climbed onto the bed, where her mother was lying down, she lay down next to her mother and put her arms around her comforting her. After a few minutes, her mother stopped crying, hugged her and fell asleep.

A few days later they were released from the hospital and went home. As they entered the house her father was in the living room sitting on the couch, watching TV, like nothing happened. There was still blood all over the living room.

“Finally, your back. You left this place a mess. Clean it’s starting to stink.” He said just sitting there on the couch, his bare feet on the coffee table.

Something in Ana snapped. Seeing him sitting on the couch, surrounded by her mother’s blood, seeing her mother, getting cleaning supplies, with fear in her eyes triggered something deep within her. Ana set her plan in motion. 

Ana ran to the kitchen, grabbed the biggest glass she could find and filled it with water. She ran upstairs to her parent's bedroom, poured the water from the glass beside her parent's bed, on the side her father was sleeping on, and put the glass on the floor next to the bed. Two weeks ago, she started to remove the plastic wrapping off of the lamp cable beside her parents’ bed. The side her father was sleeping on. Ana removed a part of the lamp plastic cable wrapping all the way down to the metal wires but she didn’t use a knife or a scalpel. No, this needed to look like an accident and removing the plastic with a knife or a scalpel would look deliberate. Instead, she used her hands. She twisted the cable at one point until a crack appeared, using her teeth and fingernails she tore off the plastic cable wrapping making it look as if it had happened because the lamp and the cable were old and brittle.

Ana put the exposed wires into the puddle of water and called her father “Dad! Can you come here for a second? I need your help!” Ana shouted from her parent's bedroom.

“Call your mother!” He shouted back.

“She is cleaning! Come here! Help me for a second!” Ana shouted hoping he will get up.

“Ok! I’m coming!” He shouted. She could hear the sound of creaking as he climbed up the stairs. As he entered the bedroom, he saw a bunch of his wife’s clothes on the bed and Ana holding one of her mother's shirt. “What is this? Why are you rummaging through your mother's stuff?” He asked thinking that she is just wasting his time.

“We need to pick some clothes for mom. Some that she can put on with her cast on her arm.” Ana said and looked at him. “I could use some help with that. Can you turn on the light beside the bed and help me choose some clothes for her.”

He looked at her, angry that she was wasting his time with this nonsense and started to walk towards the lamp beside his side of the bed. He stepped into the puddle of water with his bare feet as he grabbed the light switch “Why is there water…” He began to say but was interrupted by a surge of electricity running through his body as he turned the lamp on.

A few seconds later he fell on the floor, his eyes empty of life. Ana’s plan succeeded in protecting her mother. Never again will her mother see anger, hate or rage in the eyes that belonged to the man who brought her only misery, pain and anguish. 

Ana saw her mother enter the bedroom with shock on her face as she saw her husband lying on the floor. Her mother rushed over trying to help him but she stopped her. “Mom, don’t touch him. He fell after he touched the lamp cable and he is still holding it.” Ana said calmly “Go call an ambulance.”

Ana could hear the panic in her mother’s voice as her mother was talking on the phone. She was just standing beside her father looking at his lifeless body trying to think about how to react when the ambulance and the police come. Last time in the hospital she wasn’t prepared and reacted to the situation too late. ‘ _Someone dying is a sad event, especially a family member like a father. Because of that I should be very sad. I know. I will sit in the corner of the room on the floor holding my knees, crying. And this time if they as if I’m ok I’ll say no or I don’t know. The rest of the time I’ll stay silent like I’m in shock. That should be enough._ ’ 

Ana turned around, sat in a corner of the room, put her arms around her knees and waited for the ambulance and the police to come so she could start to cry. A few minutes later the ambulance and the police came and she started to cry. Her mother let them in and took them upstairs to the bedroom telling them that he fell to the floor after touching the lamp cable and that he is still holding it, that she thought that he was electrocuted.

Her mother gave the paramedics rubber gloves and they dragged her father’s lifeless body away from the bed and the cable. They examined him looking for a pulse but couldn’t find it. They tried to revive him but with no success. They declared him dead.

The police officers came into the bedroom. The same police officers from the hospital. The police officer who took pictures of her wounds walked over to her and crouched down. “I’m sorry about your dad. Your mom told us you were here when your father turned on the lamp.” The police officer said, “We saw that he knocked over a glass of water on the floor and that the lamp cable wires were in the water. The lamp was probably old so the cable was probably brittle and broke but can you tell me a little more about what happened? Why was your dad here with you?”

Ana just hugged her knees more tightly, and continued to cry, not saying a word. She didn’t want to tell her anything. 

“You know, there is just one thing bothering me.” The police officer said, rubbing her forehead, “Why didn’t the glass break when he knocked it on the floor? From that height it should at least have a crack. Did you see your father knock over the glass?” As the police officer said that, she stopped crying for a second.

‘ _How did I miss that? That’s simple logic_.’ Ana thought and began to cry again, “I don’t know”.

The police officer was sure that Ana was lying. Something about this child bothered her. All of her responses and reactions didn’t seem genuine, they seemed rehearsed, like Ana was following a script written in her head. But how could she prove that this thirteen-year-old child had something to do with her father’s death. “I know what you did.” The police officer said. Trying to get this child off guard, off her script.

Ana stopped crying, lifted her head a little and looked at the police officer. There were no more tears in her eyes, there was no sadness on her face. She stared into the police officers’ eyes for a few moments trying to figure out if the police officer was bluffing or if the police officer put the pieces of her plan together. The police officer stared back at her with a blank expression on her face. She couldn’t read the police officer and she didn’t know how to respond accordingly so she stood up and left the bedroom.

The police officer was now sure that something was wrong with that child and that she killed her father. The police officer knew that she did it to protect her mother from her abusive father. She also knew that she could never prove it because the child mimicked emotions and responses to situations so well that she fooled even her, who saw hundreds of victims of domestic violence, the first time when they were in the hospital and that she would fool a judge or a jury in a second. 

This time the police officer didn’t know how to respond.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :)
> 
> Every comment is welcome.
> 
> I just wanted to explain why this story has two rather difficult topics.
> 
> One of them is domestic violence. I know no one is a fan of that topic but it is a part of my story because the main character was exposed to domestic violence ever since she was born and it serves as a background storyline. 
> 
> I know that domestic violence is traumatic for children but I don’t know if it can cause alexithymia that the main character suffers from.
> 
> People with alexithymia have difficulty in distinguishing and appreciating the emotions of others, which is thought to lead to unempathic and ineffective emotional responding. 
> 
> The main character in my story can’t feel emotions, has difficulty in distinguishing emotions of others, doesn’t have empathy and relies on logic and memorizing other people's reactions to emotions of others to seem like a normal person in our society today.
> 
> I tried my best to write about how life with logic and without emotions and empathy would look like in our society today. I think I did the best I could because I don’t know a lot about alexithymia. 
> 
> It was quite the challenge to write about it and it gave me a new perspective on how people who don’t know about my psychological illness think about it and about how my psychological illness affects me.


End file.
